Author: Cassandra S.

Have another cup: Peas and carrots.

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=uxtdql1Crsc&feature=share

As a kid I absolutely hated, hated, HATED peas and carrots. Didn’t like them alone, let alone together. Eww! Yech!! Still don’t like them, truth be told. I made a vow, many a moon ago, when I grew up, I would never, ever, eva be forced to eat peas and carrots, again!

Little did I know, poor me, that life would, did, does pass us a nice helping of peas and carrot type situations that we are forced to eat or sit at the table until every one are gone. SMH.

Yikes! I can remember, as a kid, being told we can’t leave the table until we have eaten ALL our veggies. The power struggles that ensued! The fight was on. Pouting, child. Ticked off, adult. Both, with arms folded. Both, determined never to yield. The struggle took forever, seemed to last days and days. Other family members would have already given in, to defeat, choked down the peas and carrots and were off to play outside or do what free kids did.

Christmas, New Year’s Eve, the start of this year has been nothing but peas and carrots. Fresh hell! I am learning to go ahead and eat the damned things. Hard has been helping me. She talks me through each hard bite. She reminds me of how strong, resilient and grateful I will be once plate has been emptied of the dreaded, awful, ew tasting peas and carrots. Can’t be all chili.

Even my chili has tasted like peas and carrots since my girl passed away. I dearly want to not give two damns. Still care. Crap. Makes life soooooooooooooooo much harder actually having to live, through the hard, with Hard. Far easier, it seems, life would be if I could just mail it in. Life is much too short and no idea how many moments I have so can’t waste a moment mailing life in. Kick rocks on that!

I have been only able to swallow one cup, today. Still drinking. Still eating my peas and carrots.

How about you?

We got this. Whether it feels like it, looks like it or not. We got this.

eating my peas and carrots,

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

I was so busy living life, I forgot to be sad.

I was so busy living life, I forgot to be sad.

The day, flew past.

The day, contained incredible quiet and joy.

I was so busy living life, I forgot I was supposed to be grieving what was lost, what was never given, what had never been.

The day, surrounded me with hope.

The day, rewarded a day’s hard work with many hours of productive peace.

I was so busy living life, I forgot to be sad.

Looking, at the clock, I found myself astonished at the hours now gone. Yesterday, every second felt an hour. I was so busy living life, today, I forgot to be sad.

grateful,

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

Holy war(s): Holy Toledo.

PSA: Although, the following events/happenings may or may not, perhaps, perchance, sorta, I ain’t sayin one way or the nother, occurred. Or, perhaps not, I am declaring my innocence, on the front end. My blog, hence, I can and shall do whatevs. Whatevs….*shrug*. So, what had happened wuz…

Normally, I would have inserted a super cute story or super inspiring post. Things aren’t normal, though. At least, not for me. The start of the year has started out…*shrug*. I don’t have the energy, to be cute/inspiring/helpful today. Had just enough energy to scrape myself out of bed into a cup of coffee and onto my job. No energy, none whatever, not even for commas. Hence, the lack of commas in my posts today….*shrug*.

Truth be known, I was done with posting. Done, I tell ya. Just too much damned grief and who gives a damn to dig through, let alone trying to encourage folk who may or not give two damns themselves. So, you get a scraped together be lucky I showed up today for you me, today.

That’s all I got, today. Thankfully, that’s ALL God and Life asks of us: just TRY. One, step. One, word. One, cup. One, of something.

Why?

Because one, leads to two. Two, leads to three. Three, leads to ten. Ten, leads to 50. Before you know it, you have dug your way out, TRYed your way out, found your way out of a mountain of grief and who gives a damn.

I had one cup, of coffee. I also had quite the bit of sad, with my cup. So, I decided to have a second cup. I had a second cup, of coffee. With that second cup, I found a bit of joy. There, just beneath the surface of my French Vanilla. Just a hint, of joy. Just a titch, of giggle. Just a hint, of love/laughter.

Ah!

AH!

I may yet speak of the holy war(s) that took place. Quite the story! Remind me to tell you what happened. Tomorrow.

Today, think I shall have another cup. A last one. To share with Hard. She has been my friend, these past days. She may be a bit tired. Things have been hard, you see….

Take care of you, beloveds, for me. Okay?

Where ever you find yourself, this day, find yourself with another cup. Who knows what you may find. Let me know, would you please/thanks?

forever grateful,

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

Hardknocks: When Hard, knocks.

I like watching cooking shows. Hardly a surprise. I love me some food. Think it stems from watching mom, puttering away in the kitchen preparing this meal or that. We had many a laugh and conversation in the midst of chicken frying, bacon sizzling, cake rising deliciously in the oven.

Ah!…..*hugs self*….miss you, mom. Hey, Britta’s mum!….*waves*….

Anywho, I love those shows. I marvel at how NEAT the kitchens are! How in fresh hell, do they ALWAYS manage to keep the blasted kitchen so clean??!!…*gasp*. My kitchen, during, and especially right after, a chili making session ALWAYS looks like a crime scene. A catastrophe. A what in the fresh hell is this type of situation. Yes, I try and do as mom always taught us to clean up while cooking so as not to have to do so after.

Don’t ask me how the world chili ends up every which a way. And, how on earth, do they cut/slice things so nicely!…*gasp*. ALL my slicings end up looking like a Jackson Pollock fiasco.

Life, right now, looks and feels like a Jackson Pollock fiasco. One minute, relatively smooth sailing. Next minute…POW!! Life landed a haymaker, right to the kisser. Out like a light, I went. Came to, wondering what in the fresh hell, looked around and saw my world turned on it’s head, again.

AGAIN!

Fresh hell!

Such a hard hit. Ow….*pout*.

I found myself, find myself, still, sitting with a life-size and life-full, of hard. Trying, to figure out, what to do with this hard. Trying, to figure out, what to do with ME, during this hard. Don’t know what to DO, with this much hard, so much hard, so quickly, with NO warning.

I think, I could have prepared, for this amount of hard. If, o, if, I had only had some warning.

Circumstances, situations, the world, folk often don’t/won’t/can’t give us fair warning when hardknocks. Or, rather when hard, knocks. It just shows up and shows out.

Hard.

Hard!

HARD!!

Blow after blow after blow after blow after blow after blow after blow after blow after blow after blow…

Hey! You see, when Hard, knocks, she won’t stop knocking, upside your head, until you wake up, acknowledge her, then start throwing some haymakers, of your own.

When Hard, knocks, she comes as a friend. She, Hard, comes bearing gifts. IF, and ONLY if, we receive her with:

Grace.

Tenacity.

Humor.

Resourcefulness.

Gratitude.

Gratitude!? Humor?! What the world is so funny, about Hard? HOW the world can one be grateful for Hard????!!!!

Surprisingly, I have found, in going through the hard, WITH Hard, found I COULD make it, I COULD take it. I found, well, me. A resilient, me. A humbled, me. A tough, me. A faithful, me. A joyful still, me. A grateful, me.

Grateful? Huh?! Where did THAT come from, I wondered. In all the fighting with, fighting through, embracing, facing, tasting, receiving the hard, and Hard, I was, have been, still am, scraping away at decades, layers, boundaries, barriers, carriers and all manner of things, feelings, stereotypes, labels, mindsets, regrets, upsets, and nonsense that had been standing in my way.\

Yes, it was hard. Yes, SHE was Hard. It was her job, though, to BE. Hard. For, me. FOR me. Hard, so I could begin to see, just a little, that I COULD do the hard thing, go through the hard thing, say the hard thing, BE the hard thing. I COULD, do all of those things, yet NOT turn hard/bitter/angry.

I COULD, and did, acknowledge that this was hard, that life could and was hard. I could do that and STILL have hope, joy, peace, love and ALL manner of life’s good things. Who knew all that was in there? Why, God and Life, of course. Why, They sometimes, quite often, all the time it feels like, go through the hard, WITH Hard. Only, way to find and cherish the hidden nuggets, diamonds and gems nestled deep inside/with the hard, with Hard.

Sadly, most never learn these lessons. Most, never find the nuggets. They are too busy arguing with, refusing to go with, being angry with the hard, with Hard.

Hardknocks ARE hard. They were never meant to be easy. They were never meant to be comfortable. They were meant to be hard. In order to:

Change, us.

Challenge, us.

Shape, us.

Remake, us.

Sustain, us.

Strengthen, us.

Stablish, us.

So, we, in turn, can help God and Life to shape, remake, sustain, strengthen and stablish others.

When Hard, knocks, let her in. She will change your life. She changed mine.

Thank you, Hard, for being a friend.

doing the hard with Hard,

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

10 reasons why I love my wombie.

1: She puts up with my dunbsky grieving tail.

2-10: see reason number 1.

*shrug*

‘Nuff Said.

Cassandra

Note: Be kind, beloveds. Even when the folk in your life act ten kinds of fools. You will be next to act ten kinds of fools. Trusta sista. Your turn WILL/IS coming. So, on the front end, be kind to us dummies/morons/bafoons as some of us make our way through the unmakeable way. Please and Thanks. Rinse. Repeat. Fresh hell…

I quit!

I quit!

I’m done!

I’m finished!

I refuse to!

I will NOT!

Ever!

Never!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Kick rocks!!!!

*Cassandra puts the lid on the trash can and says good riddance to ALL that would defeat, discourage or dismiss her*

Fooled ya, didn’t I, beloveds?

Hehe.

Yall should know, by now, my TRY be too bad of a mama jamma to give up on me, on life. Yea, life has been steadily kicking my hind end. Yet, I am here, still.

HA!

Quit?

Me?

Never.

I fight on.

Do you?

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

Have another cup: Fresh hell!

Fresh hell!

A friend asked me today how I was. Wrong day to ask. Told her I was a basket of fucked up still. I detest swearing but I swear, dammit, ALL I want to do is to cuss out the world since my girl was laid to rest on Saturday. Her rest has started. Mine, done gone and went resting with her.

I have also developed a case of say ALL the wrong damn things, forget what the hell you were doing, screw up more than you fix and have to keep redoing things over and over itis.

Fresh hell!

So, with all that going on, I figure God and Life would cut a sista some slack and let her be pissed, at the world, for a bit and have time to grieve already. Dammit. Of course, They decided to knock upon my heart and ask me to prepare to care for someone They were about to send my way.

Fresh hell!

Hell no, I wanted to yell. HOW can They possibly expect me to scrape up encouraging words, wonderfully motivating sayings when all I want to say is Fresh hell?

Fresh hell!!

Yet, the second I was fixing to fix my mouth to say all kinds of hell no’s, kick rocks and take ALL that/them with you, found my want to still wanted to. Found, my TRY, still wanting to TRY.

Fresh hell!

The more I got to thinking on possibly being able to encourage this person, my heart melted.

Traitor!

Fresh hell!

I found myself having another cup of coffee, literally, turning on my music, blasting my music(sorry neighbors). and preparing my heart to at least TRY. I dug through some more grief and who gives a damn and found a bit of….*shrug*…no idea what these feelings are. Am doing my best to not live all up in my feelings, right now, as feelings tend to act ten kinds of fools and cause all kinds of foolishness, during tough times, if we allow them to roam freely and without telling them to take two seats, every now and again.

So, here I sit, ready, able, stable, determined. All I got, right now, is my TRY. My joy, my give a damn is still buried beneath a mountain of grief and who gives a damn. Thank goodness for TRY. TRY will save you through trying times, through hard times.

All this yakking has me thirsty. Think I shall have another cup.

How about you?

Keep going. No matter what is in your cup. You CAN. You WILL. Even if you have to fuss a bit, as you get through. You ARE getting through.

TRYing through these trying times,

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

True story.

🤣

I survived the weekend. (Just barely)

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

Too much in me: I told myself.

I’m done!

That’s what, I told myself. Secretly, where no one else could hear. Or see. Only one problem, though:

There is just too much TRY, in me.

Dammit!

It appears, I have been about being about, just a bit too long.

It appears, my keeping on has been keeping on, just a bit too long.

It appears, my Say, wants to have it’s say.

It appears, my Live, just wants to live.

It appears, my Love, just wants to Love.

Fresh hell!

I told myself, nobody gives two damns, anyway.

Myself, told me, I give two damns. Three, even.

I told myself, here you sit, here you wait, for dreams still yet unfulfilled. You have waited, appears to have wasted, years, decades, to see the unseen, to live out the unlived. Why wait, why waste another moment?

Myself, told me, having waited, a decade, two, yet three. What’s another moment, to give to them, to give to me?

There is just too much TRY, in me.

I told myself, here you are, arms outstretched, empty, unheeded, unneeded they have all these years have been. Why keep reaching, trying, fighting for a world who cares not for you or what you have done or shall ever do?

Myself, told me, be patient, keep trying, this life is not all about you, it’s about them, too, keep being about it, one day you may be needed, heeded, fought for, too.

Keep going. Keep trying. You ARE needed. There is too much TRY for you not to.

Fresh hell.

Dammit.

I will.

That’s what I just told myself.

Ah, there is just too much TRY, in me.

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

Note: Don’t allow yourself to talk you out of being about it. Life is simply too short. Best be being about it…

Digging through it.

Went to bed, with a mountain of grief and who gives a damn waiting for me.

Woke up, and the mountain of grief and who gives a damn was there. Wow, this thing is huge, I thought to myself.

I had no get up and go. Not sure where it had went. Probably was there, buried beneath the mountain of grief and who gives a damn.

I tried to sleep the mountain away. Yet, there it stood. Appeared not to be in any hurry to get anywhere.

I needed to get through my daily cup. I thought I saw it, buried too, beneath grief and who gives a damn.

With too much TRY in me not to try, I began digging through a mountain of grief and who gives a damn.

It took a while, half the day, truth be told. Yet, finally, FINALLY, I found a shiny object. My cup! I filled it with French Vanilla coffee and continued digging beneath that awfully awful intimidating mountain of grief and who gives a damn.

Hours later, I made another discovey: Music! Gingerly scraping away sadness and silence, I turned up the music and allowed it’s soothing tunes to clear away pebbles, stones, then boulders of grief and who gives a damn.

Digging further, I found a priceless treasure: My bible! I held it close. I wrapped myself, within it’s words and kept digging.

I dug, until my hands bled. Felt fitting, as my heart bled just as much. I dug, until I made my way to a nondescript door. I opened the door and found a truly awesome sight:

My heart, tucked gently within the heart of the two moms. With, God and Life, sitting there. Silently, watching over my heart, over me.

Content, I joined them. Am here with them, still.

Still.

Silent.

Silent and still, next to this mountain of grief and who gives a damn.

It’s okay. I shall keep digging through it…

Tomorrow.

As for today? Who gives a damn? I am grieving. Let me…

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe